


Ray

by StrictlyNoFrills



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Have this nonsense I wrote when I should have been working on my many WIPs, Modern AU, Self-Indulgent, Utter Nonsense, getting back into the swing of posting things, now it's fluff with plot, once upon a time this was fluff without plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrictlyNoFrills/pseuds/StrictlyNoFrills
Summary: There's no way the guy in that picture actually sells pool supplies for a living. And there's definitely no way his name is Ray. Nope. Not a chance. Not when he looks likethat.Also known as the fluff piece I wrote when I should have been working on literally anything else.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Balin, Bilbo Baggins & Frodo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins & Sam Gamgee, Bilbo Baggins & Tauriel, Bilbo Baggins/Fíli, Fem!Bilbo/Fili, Frodo Baggins & Sam Gamgee, Fíli & Kíli
Comments: 131
Kudos: 111





	1. Improbable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo sees something unexpectedly lovely on her way to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is mostly finished, but I wrote the bulk of it during the periods of free time I had at work today (Yay! Free time is finally back! Work is finally calming down!) on notebook paper, so I'm just posting the amount of the text I had time to type up before exhaustion set in. I will post the rest of it over the next few days.
> 
> Update: As you all know, the original note for this fic turned out to be way off base. However! Uchinanchuduckie has done something amazing! If you all would like to check out this gorgeous art that Uchinanchuduckie created based off of a very significant (funny, it's funny) moment in this chapter, then I would invite you all to go here, and if you have a DeviantArt account, to give it some love: https://www.deviantart.com/uchinanchuduckie/art/Lady-Bilbo-from-Ray-867788548. Somehow, Uchinanchuduckie seems to have plucked the Lady Bilbo from this fic straight out of my head and put her onto paper. It's the coolest thing.

Sunlight beat down through the windshield and Bilbo once again reminded herself that she had to stop misplacing her sunglasses. She reached up to pull her vizor into a better position and as she did so, her gaze flicked up towards the back of the van stopped before her at the stoplight.

Bilbo blinked, certain she was seeing things.

When she opened her eyes, the view remained unchanged. There was a beautiful young blonde man, posing as a pool supplies serviceman, his clipboard in hand, his pearly whites glinting at her in the morning light, and a nametag on his blue-and-white striped uniform shirt that proclaimed him “Ray.”

She snorted.

If they had wanted it to be less obvious that they had a model posing as a sales representative, they should have gone for one with less muscles, and duller eyes, and a less blinding grin.

And surely, they could have chosen someone without such a lovely jawline, and such a riot of thick, golden curls.

And above all, they should never have tried to convince people that this vision went by the name “Ray.” Who could believe it? It did not suit him at all.

After an age of staring skeptically at the improbable Ray, the light turned green, and Bilbo followed the Silver Fountains Plumbing and Pool Supplies van for another stretch of road before turning onto Bruinen Valley and following it all the way to Rivendell Resort. She pulled into the employee parking lot at the back, finding the spot she favored under a glorious old oak tree available and taking it gladly.

She used the construction key that would have to serve until the security company they had contracted could install their electronic access and Rivendell Resort could issue her a badge, letting herself in through the employee entrance.

As she stepped through the halls, hearing her generally silent footsteps echo oddly off of the bare walls and concrete floor, which would soon be covered in a rich orange-red tile, she marveled at the progress the building contractors had made over the weekend. She could see and hear and feel the restful ambiance coming together in the terracotta paint, in the gentle babbling of the fountain in the interior courtyard, in the vaulted arches of the ceiling that put her in mind of an ancient monastery.

It still humbled and baffled her in turns that she was able to be a part of this.

With contentment and pride sitting warmly in her chest, Bilbo made for her office, one of the few completed rooms in the resort.

Once inside the little room that was just the right size, she set down her brown leather messenger bag and sank into the chair before her computer desk, both of which had been custom designed with her in mind when Elrond Peredhel’s eccentric business partner had “stolen her away” from Hobbiton Hospitality. The rich, dark wooden chair and desk were low to the ground, as though they might belong to a child in early adolescence, though the desk was long and wide. Her chair had an emerald green velvet cushion lining the backrest, arms, and the seat, accented and secured by little brass studs, and the seat hugged her body. Bilbo squirmed deeper into the delicious comfort of it as she jiggled her mouse and woke up her desktop computer, far happier to start her workday that she had ever been when she worked for her rather overwhelming family.

They meant well. She knew that. But she was so tired of them looking at her with their expectant eyes, wondering how much longer it would take for her to meet the right young man to help her settled down and fill Bag End, her childhood home, with the pitter patter of little feet.

Bilbo would be more than happy to meet Mr. Right. The problem was that she was almost certain no such gentleman existed, and the well-meaning meddling and probing of her family only succeeded in reminding her of that probability, instead of convincing her to try and prove herself wrong.

Unbidden, the image of “Ray” popped into her head, and she shook it away with a scoff. For one thing, Bilbo had never thought of herself as someone shallow enough to form an attachment based purely on aesthetics, and for another, even if she had been such a person, the odds of ever meeting that model, enjoying his personality, and actually managing to garner his interest in return were so astronomical that the only option left open to her was to laugh.

Rather than dwell further on things she could not have, Bilbo pulled up Palantir on her computer and checked her inbox, raising an eyebrow at the message from Bard Bowman regarding an updated estimate, as their rates had changed. She opened the attachment with the new estimate and felt her eyebrows disappear into her hairline entirely. What was Lake Masters doing over there ate Laketown? Did he want to hold onto all of his customers or not?

That pearly white grin flashed in her mind’s eye again, and she forwarded Bard’s message to Lindir Houseman, her Chief Financial Officer, along with a query regarding whether or not he would like for other companies to place a bid to supply Rivendell Resort’s pool supplies. She made her way through several other emails before receiving a reply, and when she read through it, she smiled grimly. She hated to break off her business relationship with Bard – he had been so helpful when she first started working with her family and was still in the process of learning how purchasing worked, but if his boss was going to raise the rates at Laketown so outrageously…

She pulled up the contact information for the other pool supplies companies in the area and sent out requests for quotes based on the list of supplies they had originally intended to purchase from Laketown. With that done, she turned her focus towards drapery.

A few days later, the resort had a new vendor for pool supplies, and that was the end of it.

* * *

“…and we’re out of chemicals for the pools.”

Bilbo frowned lightly. She liked their plumbing and pool maintenance staff well enough – who, after all, could truly say that they did not like Elrond’s twin sons? – but they had a habit of waiting to tell her potentially urgent things until the end of the day.

“Alright. I’ll give Silver Fountains a call and see if they can deliver some this afternoon or first thing tomorrow morning.”

Elladan grinned at her gratefully before walking out of her office still facing her. “You’re the best, Bilbo.”

“And don’t you forget it!” she called before the door could close after him completely.

She shook her head and pulled up the contact information for Silver Fountains Plumbing and Pool Supplies, snagging her desk phone out of its cradle and untwisting a bit of its cord, which grew more and more tangled as the months passed. Supposedly there was a trick to preventing the tangling from becoming too troublesome, but Bilbo had never quite managed to figure it out. She dialed the number and waited to hear Balin Durin’s pleasantly amused tone. Her heart began to beat swiftly the way it always did when she wasn’t sure that something would go the way that she needed at work.

“Silver Fountains Plumbing and Pool Supplies. This is Balin speaking. How may I help you today?”

“Hey, Balin. It’s Bilbo from Rivendell.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Baggins! How are you today?”

“I’m alright, although I’m afraid we’ve landed ourselves in a bit of a pickle. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, though I’m sorry to hear about your troubles, lass. How may I be of service?”

“Is there any way you could have our order for pool chemicals delivered before you close this evening, or first thing tomorrow morning? I know it’s early and on short notice.”

“Aye, that is a bit of a pickle now, isn’t it? I’m afraid all our drivers already have their routes assigned for tomorrow, and it’s past time for them to be making their way back to the shop for the day.”

Bilbo bit her lip, her heart pounding even harder. She’d been afraid of that.

“But if you don’t mind having someone drop by the shop to pick them up, the lads would be happy to help them load everything into their car.”

Bilbo ran through the list of people available and then squared her jaw. They were all busy at the moment or in a higher paygrade. It would have to be her. “Thank you, Balin. That would be a huge help.”

“Happy to be of service, dearie.”

“Thank you,” she said again. “I’ll talk to you later,” she added, waiting for his reply before setting her phone back in the cradle and then snatching up her messenger bag. She pulled out her keys and her phone, looking up the directions to Silver Fountains with her thumb pressing rapidly to the keys as she dashed out the door to her office.

As she high-tailed it to the employee parking lot, she passed Mr. Grey, who called out, “Where are you off to?”

“I’m going on an adventure!” And it would be an adventure. Silver Fountains would only be open for another forty-five minutes, and Rivendell Resort was about that far away without going home traffic thrown into the mix.

She ran to her car once she was out the back door and let herself in swiftly, thrusting her phone into the cupholder in the center console without ceremony before shoving her key into the ignition. Bofur, her favorite mechanic, would surely yell at her about that good-naturedly at some point in the future. She backed out with exceptional verve and then peeled out of the parking lot, no doubt shocking her coworkers, who had grown accustomed to her usual sedate approach to – well – everything.

Following the directions of her phone’s GPS, Bilbo thought the AI sounded unusually reproving and judgmental of the way she shot through the streets of Arda.

Bilbo grinned. She hadn’t been this reckless since she was a teenager, and the speed was exhilarating.

Her little Pony 14 screeched into the parking lot of Silver Fountains in record time, and she got out and sprinted toward their front door.

When she stepped into the reception area, briefly taking in the dark tones of the walls and the stone and metal furnishings, she noted that the place seemed almost deserted. At the front desk sat not a friendly, older gentleman, but a young man.

 _The_ young man.

The improbable Ray.

She stared at him for a moment as he glanced up at her from his computer monitor and then she blurted, “You’re not _really_ named Ray, are you?”

He blinked and then his lips twitched upwards, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with good humor.

Bilbo coughed and then said, “Um, what I meant to say was that I have a pickup order for Rivendell Resort?” She winced as soon as the last part made its way out of her mouth, hating that it sounded more like a question than a statement, but it was out there now, along with her even less impressive opening gambit. That had revealed far more than she ever would have preferred.

In the months since the resort was completed and had its grand opening, Bilbo had, every now and then, pondered the existence of “Ray” the model for Silver Fountains’ promotional photo. The model who was apparently not a model at all. He looked a little older than he had whenever the picture had been taken, and even lovelier.

“Ah, no,” Mr. Probably Not Really a Model said sheepishly. “That uniform was supposed to be for a model, but the guy called in sick at the last minute, and I was the only one close to his size when the advertising company called to let us know he’d canceled.”

Bilbo glanced at his broad shoulders and the musculature of his upper arms, clearly defined even in the sleeves of the forget-me-not blue button down that he wore today, which made the color of his eyes stand out even more than they had in that ad. Bilbo hadn’t realized that was possible.

She caught herself staring again and blushed horribly. He was kind enough to ignore it.

“Anyway, that’s enough about that. I’m Fili Durin, at your service, and you must be Miss Baggins, here for the Rivendell Resort order. Let me go grab my brother from the warehouse and we’ll get you sorted.”

Bilbo looked dumbly at the hand he held out and then shook herself, raising her own hand before he could decide that she was horribly rude. She had little hope of avoiding him deciding she was somehow mentally deficient. He had seen her make a fool of herself too many times in the span of less than five minutes. His palm was warm and slightly dry, the pads of his fingers calloused, and the feeling of his strong, large hand engulfing her much smaller, more delicate one gave her an inexplicable sense of safety. She found that she had to force herself to let go.

He shot her a quick, friendly flash of those devastatingly white teeth and then stepped through a door behind that desk that she had not realized was there, so seamlessly did it blend into the wall.

She stood before the desk for a moment and then stumbled her way over to one of the black chairs which seemed to have been hewn from the walls and floor themselves. The chair was surprisingly comfortable when she collapsed down onto it. She had to work far harder than she would like to resist the urge to clutch her messenger bag like a lumpy leather pillow or a teddy bear. She was thirty-three years old, not three. There was no reason to need the comfort of something soft and weighty in her arms. No, indeed.

Not even if it was entirely distressing to discover that her pool supplies store model was not only not a model but also far prettier in person, with a few extra years on him, and so terribly, awfully, _nice_.

To say nothing of the fact that she had never imagined actually meeting her model in person, and had not been prepared in the least… and when, precisely, had she started thinking of him as “hers”? He most assuredly was not.

People saw his picture on the backs of those delivery vans every day. Countless women probably sighed themselves silly over the image of this man they had never met, and Bilbo had no more claim to him than they did.

Before she could fall too deeply into self-recrimination, Fili returned, his arms full, with another young man in tow. This other lad, presumably Fili’s brother, was taller and leaner, and equally as handsome, with long, thick, dark hair tied back in a ponytail that must have grown increasingly unkempt throughout the day, as some of his locks hung down into his face or framed his head in a deep brown, frizzy halo. His eyes were a dark, fathomless hazel, softened by a warm, slightly mischievous glint, and his skin was olive toned to Fili’s faintly golden peach.

“Miss Boggins!” the new addition called, sounding inexplicably delighted. Fili nudged one of his companion’s booted feet lightly with one of his own.

“Baggins, Kili. _Baggins_.”

“Right, of course,” Kili agreed, still beaming at Bilbo irrepressibly. “Sorry about that. Lovely to meet you at last.”

“I beg pardon?” At last? He shouldn’t know her from Yavanna.

“Well, it’s just, our cousin always has such nice things to say about you.”

“Oh!” she said, still slightly taken aback but none-the-less pleased. “Well, I like Balin very much as well.”

“Wonderful,” Kili said, his smile growing impossibly wider before he shifted his burden slightly in his arms and added, “Although I can’t say it’s much of a surprise – everyone loves Balin.”

At the sight of him struggling with the weight of the chemicals, Bilbo leapt up as though her seat had electrocuted her. “Sorry about that – those containers look quite heavy. My car’s not parked too far from the entrance. Why don’t we head that way?” She dashed to the door and held it open, waiting for the two brothers to pass her by, and then she followed them out, popping her trunk.

Fili and Kili loaded up the trunk of her Pony 14 with relieved sighs.

“Was that everything?” Bilbo asked, hoping they would be spared another trip or more.

Fili shook his head. “One more trip should do it, I think, and then if you’ll come inside, I can just print you a copy of your invoice instead of having Balin email it.”

“Sounds lovely. Thank you.” She considered her trunk and then decided better of it, shutting it and opening the doors to her backseat. Then she followed Fili and Kili back into the building and waited while they fetched the rest of the supplies from the back. They repeated the journey to the car and then she shut and locked the doors, walking inside their facility for the last time today.

Kili held out his hand and reiterated, “Lovely to meet you, Miss Baggins. I’ve still got some inventory to finish in the warehouse, though, so I’ll leave you two to it, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no. Not at all. It was nice to meet you, too, Kili. Thank you for your help, and please, call me Bilbo.”

He dipped his head to her and waved before departing through the nearly invisible door behind the front desk once again.

Fili motioned her towards the desk. “Shall we?”

She nodded decisively, glad that watching him and his brother grow slightly red in the face and a bit sweaty as they carted around heavy containers of chemicals had allowed her to overcome her earlier bout of verbal bumbling. “We shall.”


	2. The Bounds of Credulity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo is less reckless than she could be, and this is a good thing.

As Bilbo waited for Fili to put the finishing touches on the invoice, she said, “Thank you for doing this on such short notice. I wasn’t expecting the rush that we had during spring break. Who knew so many college students would be interested in coming to Rivendell?”

The resort had options for people of all ages, of course, but they tended to draw a slightly older, more stately crowd most of the time. Perhaps the students had been drawn in by the promise of serenity Rivendell Resort offered as a way to unwind a bit before finals hit them with the force of a freight train.

Her own young cousin, Frodo, had even stayed there for a time, dipping into his inheritance for something other than his education for once. She had been glad for a chance to see him, as he had been quite busy during his first year at Crickhollow college, and he had managed to do something rather horrid to his shoulder – some sort of driving accident, he’d claimed, but Bilbo had seen the wound once, when she had passed him in the hallway of the resort as he headed towards the indoor pools. It looked uncomfortably similar to a stab wound, and it made her wonder where Sam, his little shadow since childhood, had been when it happened. Frodo’s best friend was as sweet as could be, but when it came to protecting Frodo, Sam was fiercer and more dogged than a pit bull.

After catching sight of his wound, Bilbo had resolved to keep a much closer eye on her cousin in the future. The orphans in their family should stick together, after all.

Fili shrugged, his eyes on the computer screen as he typed. “I don’t know. I might enjoy going there for a bit of a break once my doctorate is finished.

She stared at him dumbly. She seemed to be doing that a lot today – and she kissed any progress she’d made towards being anything resembling confident around Fili a fond farewell. In her daily life, Bilbo did not have much use for excessive intelligence. A high IQ wouldn’t improve the resort’s odds of getting the right colored drapes shipped in to replace the ones that were damaged in an incident in suite 12, nor would it ensure that she came home without accidentally leaving the bacon behind at the grocery store counter. It wouldn’t make much of a difference if she got a flat tire on her car, either. On a personal level, however… “Your doctorate,” she mouthed to herself before clearing her throat and asking, “Oh? What’s your field of study?”

“Chemical engineering.”

Bilbo nodded weakly. Of course, he was brilliant on top of everything else. If he wasn’t so kind, Bilbo thought she might have to hate him for it, just a little bit.

She couldn’t hate him, though. No matter how irritatingly perfect he might seem.

Maybe he secretly hogged the covers. Maybe he ate cheese wip – straight out of the bottle. Maybe he only liked ska music. Maybe he hated pie. Maybe he _didn’t like kids_.

Whatever it might be, Bilbo was positive he had to have at least one flaw.

She heard the printer come to life and glanced up from where she had been staring at the counter. She met Fili’s slightly concerned gaze and mustered a wan smile.

At least she could be fairly certain she would not look besotted.

“Are you alright?”

She waved the question away lightly. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s just been a long week. But it’s Friday, which means I can just go home and eat ice cream while binge-watching old episodes of my favorite show.”

Oh, no. Bilbo wanted to bang her head against the front desk. Might as well tattoo “Single and Lonely” on her forehead and be done with it.

“Oh?” Fili asked, thankfully appearing interested rather than pitying. “What show would that be?”

“The Three Hunters. Do you know it?”

His eyes lit up with appreciation and just a hint of humor. “I love that show. My whole family does, actually.”

“Really? That’s pretty cool – that you all can share that with each other, I mean.”

His cheeks dimpled as he told her excitedly, “We have watch parties when new episodes air.” Then his expression grew slightly hesitant. “Would you like to come to the next one?”

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude-“

Fili shook his head, regaining his former confidence. “You won’t be intruding. The more the merrier, aye? Besides, Balin and Kili adore you.”

 _And what about you?_ She shoved down the urge to ask.

“Kili just met me. And I’ve only ever spoken to Balin over the phone.”

“Doesn’t matter. We Durins are very good judges of character.” He paused. “Most of us, anyway. Uncle Thorin takes a little while to warm up to people outside of the family.”

“And you’re sure no one would mind?”

“Positive,” he confirmed. “So? Will you come?”

She thought about it for a moment, but with those bright blue eyes looking at her so earnestly, there was truly only one answer she could reasonably be expected to give. “Yes, alright. Thank you. That sounds lovely.”

With a slightly unsteady hand, she took the invoice he had retrieved from the printer and held out to her while they were talking. She caught sight of a neon green sticky-note at the bottom with Fili’s number and an address written in a bold, neat, almost geometric script. Where had the sticky-note come from? She hadn’t even heard him pluck it from a sticky-note pad. It was as if he had pulled one of the conjuring tricks Mr. Grey would perform at the company parties.

Instead of asking, Bilbo simply said, “Thank you,” again with an appreciative laugh. “That was very smooth, you know.”

He offered her a cheeky bow. “At your service, Miss Baggins.”

“I thought I told you to call me Bilbo.”

“Ah,” he said, holding up his index finger, “you told _Kili_ to use your first name. I have yet to have been awarded the honor.”

“How remiss of me. In that case,” she replied, rolling her eyes indulgently, “Bilbo, at your service.” She finished off with a flourishing curtsy, and he chuckled.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, then?” Fili checked.

“A little before 8:00,” Bilbo assured him, as that was when the show started. “I’ll bring a pie. And,” she added, her sense of self-preservation kicking in quite belatedly, “a friend, if that’s alright.”

“A pie would be wonderful,” Fili replied.

 _Okay_ , she thought. _Likes pie_. That answered that question.

“What kind? And of course, you should bring your friend. As I said before – the more the merrier. Although, do you mind if I ask whom you’ll be bringing?”

“What kind of pie would you like? And you certainly may ask, since I’ll be bringing her around your family. Tauriel is my best friend, and highly objects to things like me getting absorbed into a cult or offered up as a virgin sacrifice. It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she added. “But I don’t really know you yet, and if I didn’t take precautions, Tauriel would be very upset with me, and she tends to shoot at things when she’s upset. Or stab them.”

She saw another flash of Fili’s dimples. “By all means, bring your trigger-happy friend. She sounds delightful. And any kind of pie or other food you want to bring would be perfect, but… I am rather partial to blackberries.”

“Blackberry pie it is, then. And, maybe a chocolate pecan pie for those who don’t want the blackberry.”

He choked and she heard him mutter something that sounded oddly close to a strangled, “Marry me,” and she tilted her head in question. “What?”

“What?” He gazed at her guilelessly.

She shook her head at herself. Clearly her ears were playing tricks on her. “Nothing,” she said, rubbing at one of her ears with her free hand as though that had any chance of returning her hearing to normal. “Don’t worry about it. It looks like I’ve finally cracked from the stress. Next thing you know, everyone will be calling me Mad Baggins.”

His gaze softened. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I’m not,” she protested. At his raised eyebrows, she conceded, “Alright, maybe I am. I’ll do better about it. How’s that?”

“Lovely,” he decided, nodding approvingly before glancing at the ornate black clock on the wall, the numbers and hands an entrancing liquid silver.

Seeing the time, Bilbo jerked. “Oh! You should have been closed ages ago! I’m so sorry – I’ll get out of your hair.” She would need to race back to the resort to avoid accruing too much overtime for this week as it was.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said easily. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”

She bit her lip. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you, too.” She raised her free hand in an awkward wave. “So, Wednesday?”

“Wednesday,” he agreed. “Have a good evening, Bilbo.”

“You, too.”

She dragged herself away and out the door before she made Fili and herself both criminally late to clock out for the day, trotting to her sandy-colored car swiftly.

The drive home was filled with the same judgmental directions from the GPS as the rosy rays of the setting of the sun urged her on.

She raced past the rest of the office staff vehicles as they tried to make their way out of the employee parking lot, retaking her spot under the craggy old oak and running the short distance from her spot to the backdoor. She badged in just as Mr. Grey was about to come out, and he held the door for her.

“And how was your adventure, my dear?” he asked kindly, gazing down at her with his knowing blue eyes.

Her mind went to the little green sticky-note she had peeled off of the invoice and stashed in the little storage space hidden within the front armrest of her car before flying out of Silver Fountains’ parking lot a short while ago. “Unexpectedly fruitful. Are the twins still here? I have some things for them to unload from my car.”

“I believe so,” he nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to elsewhere.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Have a good night, sir.”

“Gandalf, my dear girl. The only daughter of Belladonna Took should never refer to me as _sir_ ,” he reminded her, his voice and face merry with mock-sternness.

“Yes, sir,” she retorted cheekily before heading off. As she set off in search of the twins, she heard him huff a small laugh and allow the door to close between them.

She found the twins harassing their sister playfully as she worked the reception area, and took them off Arwen’s grateful hands. “You wanted those chemicals and now you’ve got them,” she told them firmly when they expressed a desire to linger a bit longer. They acquiesced with more grace and eagerness than their grumblings might have implied, and Bilbo supposed they must be just as excited to head home for the night as she.

They merrily pressganged a few members of housekeeping into service along the way to the employee parking lot, and together, the small gaggle made short work of bringing in the much-needed pool supplies.

With that task finally dispatched, Bilbo headed for her office to wrap up a few things before clocking out at last and departing for her final drive of the day.

Night had fallen, already thick and dark, and she was drooping heavily as she made her way into the sprawling house her mother and father had left behind after succumbing to an awful bout of pneumonia the winter of her final year of study at Crickhollow. She toed off her nude-colored ballet flats by the door and padded her way into the kitchen, snagging a pint of mint chocolate chip and a spoon. Then she headed for the living room, sinking into the overstuffed, worn brown leather couch and clicking on the television screen. It was still paused on the scene in the pilot episode where the dwarf, the elf, and the man who comprised the trio of the eponymous show title discovered that their two young faerie friends had been taken by goblins from the citadel where the council had gathered. She took the cover off of the top of her ice cream carton and pressed play, settling in for an episode or two.

She made it halfway through the pint and thirty minutes into the second episode before nodding off, not even hearing it when the spoon fell out of her hand and onto the plush green carpet.


	3. Verging on the Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo puts things off and then takes other things on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, it grew? A whole subplot?
> 
> I really thought this would wrap in three parts. And that this was purely a light, fluffy comedy. 
> 
> Those of you who know me are probably laughing right now.

In the morning, Bilbo woke up with half her body hanging off the couch and a horrendous crick in her neck. Her mint chocolate chip ice cream had fallen onto the floor and melted, staining her previously pale beige carpet a frankly disturbing shade of green.

Chocolate chips dotted the veridian disaster, and ants swarmed giddily over it.

Great.

Just what she wanted to wake up to on a Saturday. Or any day, really.

“Gross.”

She squirmed and pulled all the way onto the couch and stared down at the mess with a fatalistic sigh. Then she rolled her eyes at her own dramatics, did her best to pop her neck – which proved hopeless – and went to grab the vacuum cleaner, towels, a bucket of water, and soap.

It was probably for the best that she had, a few years after losing her parents, felt compelled to replace the bright orange shag carpeting that she’d grown up with, otherwise she would probably be crying about ruining it. As though anything in the world could have made that stuff worse.

Now, she was simply irritated.

Banishing the ants and cleaning up the sugary nightmare that had drawn them to begin with only took about half an hour of her day. Then, she decided that she should probably shower and put on something that she had not worked a full day and then accidentally slept in. That ate up another half an hour.

What else could she do?

She ate the last of the rice cereal, which was how she discovered that she only had three ounces of milk left. She wound up making up for the difference by mixing in a few ounces of strawberry yogurt.

Not bad.

The sad lack of milk and the empty cereal box inspired her to go grocery shopping, which ate up a few hours, because stores could never carry all the things she wanted in one place, for reasons Bilbo would probably never understand.

Finally, after coming home from the third store to put away groceries, she stayed there, at which point she decided that two weeks was simply too long to go between house-cleanings. She went and grabbed all the necessary supplies, changed from her nice skinny jeans and white button down blouse into some ratty sweats which, in the first stages of their life, had been navy blue, and scrubbed down, dusted, and vacuumed the house until she was sweaty, exhausted, and starving.

She padded into the kitchen to survey her newly restocked fridge and pantry and stared into both alternately for several long, indecisive minutes.

Thirty-five minutes after entering the kitchen, the front doorbell rang. The pizza dude was there.

Bilbo paid for her pizza and scuttled toward the couch, feeling strangely furtive and as though she was getting away with something illicit. Which was patently absurd. No one was around to judge her or to learn from her poor life choices. If she wanted to sit on the living room couch with a medium-sized meat-lover’s pizza sitting on her lap, who was going to stop her?

No one. That was who.

“And this is why I’m single,” she announced, trying, as Tauriel often told her she should do, to see the positive side of her life. “I can eat what I want, when I want, how I want, and nobody’s around to care.”

The empty house echoed in silent skepticism, and she snatched up the remote in self-defense. She navigated back to the spot where she had nodded off in The Three Hunters last night and picked up the first piece of pizza, stuffing about half of it in her mouth defiantly. So, there.

She spent the rest of the day working her way through her pizza and re-watching the bulk of season one, and then she put what little was left of her lunch and dinner in the fridge, brushed her teeth, took another shower, and went to bed like a reasonable human being.

On Sunday, Bilbo was forced to acknowledge, after taking her car to have its oil changed, that she was dithering. She had a decision to make, and she needed to make it sooner, rather than later.

Either she was going to that watch party on Wednesday night, or she was going to have to come up with some sort of plausible and socially acceptable excuse to back out. If she decided the former, then she had a phone call to make. If she decided the latter… Well, she would still have to make a phone call, but to someone else. At this point, Bilbo wasn’t certain which conversation she dreaded more. She adored her best friend, and she was fairly sure she liked Fili, but they both presented certain challenges. Tauriel was difficult because she had quite a lot of opinions about things, and she tended to express them, vocally, and without reservation. Fili was difficult because he had this awful tendency to melt her brain, and she kept waiting for the moment when he would realize that she was a nut and needed to be frog-marched back to the mothership.

Her dithering was brought to an abrupt halt when an oddly frantic pounding drew Bilbo away from the pot roast she was checking on and to her front door. When she opened it and saw who stood there, her eyes flew open wide.

“Frodo? Sammy? What are you doing here?” She took in the haggard looks on their faces, the way Frodo slumped against his best friend, and then she stepped aside. “Never mind – I’ll worry about that later. Come on in, boys. You look exhausted.”

Sam half-carried Frodo into the house and Bilbo got them both situated at the kitchen table while Bilbo went to put the kettle on for tea.

“Here,” she said after setting the water to boil and putting a cinnamon roll each in front of her unexpected guests. “I’ve got a roast in the slow-cooker but it’ll be another hour or so before it’s done.” She considered grabbing a cinnamon roll for herself, but the sight of her wan cousin, who never did manage to put on much weight and so was a long, reedy thing, made nausea curl in her gut.

Goodness, what had happened to these boys?

She busied herself with pulling out mugs and teabags instead, and by the time she had all three mugs arranged neatly on the counter, each with a lavender-chamomile teabag inside, the kettle was starting to whistle. She took the mugs, three spoons, and a jar of honey to the table and then said firmly, “Now, then. I think one of you had better start telling me what is going on.”

* * *

So, Frodo had a stalker.

Sam started with this, “It’s that Rafe fellow.”

“Rafe?” Bilbo asked, unable to help herself. “Who the hell is Rafe? What kind of a name is Rafe, anyway?”

“Rafe King. TA for History of Arda. For some reason, he thinks Frodo made a pass at his little sister, Sarah, and stole her favorite ring.”

Bilbo absorbed this bizarre explanation and then turned to Frodo and asked straight out, “And did you?”

Frodo jerked, a bit of life creeping into his previously blank mien. “Of course not. I would never do anything like that, Bilbo. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do. I just had to make sure. It sounds like one of those stories that’s so insane you can’t actually make it up, you know?”

She watched Sam’s normally sweet face darken. “That’s not anywhere near the worst of it, Miss Bilbo.”

“Sammy, you’re eighteen. I’m pretty sure you can drop the ‘Miss’ now.”

That broke through whatever had angered Sam so, as he leveled her a look that was at once frank and sheepish. “Only if you’ll stop calling me ‘Sammy’, ma’am. I reckon I’m a little too old for it.”

“I guess that’s fair. Now, what were you saying about the worst of it?”

Sam’s lips tightened and then he said, “Ol’ Rafe decided to take the law into his own hands a few months back – oh, we can’t prove it was him, seeing has he had his face covered with a black hoodie and hall, but we know. He stabbed our Frodo in the shoulder and searched him as he was walking back to our dorm one night – he was going for his heart, I’d bet, but he’s a bit of a blind idiot, and he missed, and I’m that grateful for it. Anyhow. You would think that would have been the end of it, seeing as Frodo didn’t have the ring, but then, after Frodo got out of the hospital, Rafe started stalking him. Broke into our dorm when we were out once. So, I made Frodo visit that resort of yours over spring break, since the stress of it all had just about done Frodo in, and he seemed better for a little while, but now Rafe’s back to his old tricks again, and, well.”

He shrugged towards Frodo, who was clinging to his mug of tea for the heat that seeped into his hands, but had yet to take a sip of the tea or a bite of the cinnamon roll.

“So, you see? I had to get him out of there. Just for a few days. We’ve got all our assignments for the week and everything, and we can listen to the lectures online, since the professors do podcasts now.”

Bilbo ran her hands through her hair, completely blind-sided by all of this. “Baby,” she said, looking at her little cousin, “why didn’t you tell me? Why not come to me sooner, or go to campus security? Or the police? Why did you lie about it and say you got into a car accident?”

Frodo shrugged, staring down at his hands where they met around the edges of his mug, and at the little daisies that peeked between his fingers and from the periwinkle blue background. “Rafe said that if I told anyone, he’d go after them, too.” He glanced up miserably. “He already knows about Sam, and that’s bad enough. I couldn’t let him know about anyone else I care about, either, and I couldn’t drag anyone who doesn’t know me into this mess.”

“It’s true. I had to just about drag him all the way here,” Sam added, sounding frustrated and admiring of his best friend’s resolve.

Bilbo felt a lump in her throat, and she reached forward to put her small hand on Frodo’s pale, fine-boned wrist. “Well, I for one am glad that you’re here. Even if you didn’t want to be.”

Frodo offered her a weak smile. “Thank you. And I do want to be here – more than anything. I loved getting to see you the other week. It’s just… I’m afraid of what might happen to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me, alright? Because I am about to call Crickhollow’s administration and give them a piece of my mind for not vetting their instructors better and for not protecting their students, and then I am going to tell them that you two will be finishing out the rest of the semester from here. Someone – _not_ Mr. King – can come and proctor your finals. And if that bastard hasn’t been fired and charged before the end of this summer, then I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to transfer. There’s a school not twenty minutes from here that is just as good. At this point, it sounds like it may even be better. As a Crickhollow alum, I personally am insulted that the quality of their teaching staff has taken such a poor turn since I graduated. Perhaps I should tell them that, in those exact words. In fact, I intend to do just that.”

She stood up and leaned across the small table to press a kiss to each curly head – one raven and one golden – and then pulled her phone out of her pocket as she walked into the living room to give the boys some space while she dialed the secretary for the dean’s office, her fretting about Wednesday night entirely forgotten.


	4. Inexplicable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo remembers something that might have been useful earlier, and learns a few things that she didn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've entered a Halloween writing challenge (because I needed yet another WIP, naturally), because ISeeFire and Agent_Snark are adorable enablers (if you haven't read their works yet, you absolutely should), so there will be gaps between updates as I try to get my story for the challenge written. It's going to take me a good chunk of October to complete it, but I'm having fun with it. 
> 
> _Ray_ continues to be a strange mix of the absurd and the dramatic, but I'm having fun with this, as well.
> 
> Hope you guys are all doing well and having a good weekend!

As the automated message played in her ears, first greeting her and then listing the dean’s office hours, Bilbo remembered the problem inherent in calling the college administrative staff on a Sunday; no one was there. Rather than having the chance to calmly explain how Crickhollow had failed her cousin in every way that pertained to his current situation, she gritted her teeth and left the dean’s office a strongly worded voicemail and _suggested_ that they call her back tomorrow, at their earliest convenience. Then she sent campus security, the dean, and his secretary an email to the same effect, in the off chance that something unfortunate happened to the recording.

Once she felt that she had covered her bases sufficiently with the school, Bilbo glanced towards the kitchen and then pulled up the newest number in her contacts list, as the decision she had been very carefully _not_ agonizing over had effectively been taken out of her hands.

Fili picked up after the third ring, his voice warm and welcoming.

She hated to disappoint him, but even if she had not been entertaining certain reservations over his invitation, her cousin came first.

It had been that way ever since Frodo was born. All her other cousins had more siblings than they could shake a stick at. She and Frodo were the only ones in the family who understood what it was like to grow up with parents who were slightly older, and more than a little overprotective, because they had each been their parents’ miracle child, brought into the world in the wake of miscarriage after miscarriage. Bilbo decided, from the first moment she had held her tiny cousin and stared down at his strangely wise blue eyes, that Frodo would be the little brother her parents had never been able to give her. The decision was complicated somewhat by the great distance between Bag End and Buckland, but over the years, Bilbo had done her best to be there for as many milestones as she possible, and Frodo and his parents had visited Bag End fairly frequently in return. Frodo had loved it as a little boy, following her around and looking up to her as though she’d hung the moon, but he had, in the way of adolescents, pulled away a bit as he grew older and became his own person. Busy with graduate school and then with the start of her career, Bilbo had felt comfortable enough with giving him the space he needed to grow, but now…

She glanced towards the kitchen again as Fili said, “I’m happy to hear from you, Bilbo, but I have to admit, I’m a little curious too.”

Softly, Bilbo sighed. “Look, I hate to do this, but something’s come up. My little cousin and his best friend showed up on my doorstep today, and they’re dealing with a lot. I just feel like they’re a bit too fragile for me to leave them alone in the evening.”

There was silence for a beat and then Fili asked, “Do you think they would like to come with you?”

“To the watch party?” Bilbo asked, startled. “Um. Maybe,” she said doubtfully. Sam and Frodo liked The Three Hunters well enough, but she wasn’t convinced they would feel comfortable in a house full of strangers right now.

“Why don’t you ask?” Fili suggested gently. “If they aren’t interested, or they don’t feel up to it, then I’ll completely understand, and you can come over for the Wednesday after, or the one after that. Whenever. There’s not a time limit on your welcome – aside from, of course, the length of the season. But I have it on good authority that it’s been picked up for a fourth, so really, it’s whenever you’re ready.”

For a long moment, Bilbo could only stare blankly at the picture of her mother and father’s wedding day where it hung above the mantle of the living room fireplace.

“Bilbo?” Fili asked, sounding hesitant for the first time. “… Was that too much?”

“…No,” she managed to force out past the lump in her throat, wondering why she felt the ridiculous urge to cry. Fili’s patience was not a bad thing. It was a _good_ thing. She just… She didn’t understand it. Since her parents had died, Bilbo, always a bit of a wild child, had retreated into herself, and though she had friends and coworkers she enjoyed working with, it had been a long time since someone had simply let her do things at her own pace. Had respected that sometimes, she just needed some time to absorb things and take it slow. “No,” she repeated after swallowing roughly, “it was good. Perfect, really. Why do you keep being so perfect?”

After the words popped out of her mouth, she closed her eyes and silently called herself ten different kinds of idiot.

Fili’s laugh was low and raspy and a bit kind, and it did something funny to the solidity of her knees. Good thing she was sitting, she supposed. “I could be terrible for a little while, if it would make you feel better? I know. I could sing showtunes. My friends hate it when I do that.”

A slightly wet laugh tumbled out of her lips and she agreed, “Sure, if you’re up for it, I guess. That might ruin your perfect image just a bit. Why not?”

Except that, a few terrible moments later, with Fili crooning old theme songs in her ears, Bilbo learned exactly why not: He had a lovely singing voice, and she couldn’t even manage to feel overly irritated about the lyrics she would no doubt have stuck in her head for hours after this phone call that had gotten completely away from her.

After running through a series of songs Bilbo had grown up hearing, and a few she had never heard before, Fili wound his impromptu concert to a close and then cleared his throat. “So, did that help?”

“Not even a little bit,” she admitted, laughing helplessly. “Tell me something horrible.”

“Something horrible, hmm? All right – I always forget to put the toilet seat down.”

Seriously? Was that the best he could do? “Do you really? Scandalous. How do you hold your head up in polite society?”

“I honestly couldn’t say, although I don’t think you sound appalled enough. It always drove my mother insane when I lived at home.” He made a thoughtful noise and then said, “Let’s see… I hate apples. If a dish has apples in it, I can’t handle it. There was an incident when I was kid, and I’ve never been able to tolerate the taste or smell of apples since.”

“An incident, huh? I’m definitely going to have to hear that story at some point.”

“It’s really not as exciting as it sounds,” Fili assured her.

She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “If it’s put you off apples this badly, that can’t possibly be true.” Taking a moment to sniff the air, she added, “And speaking of food, I think my roast is almost done, and I should really see how the boys are doing. I left them in the kitchen, and it’s awfully quiet in there.”

“Well, then I’ll let you go. Let me know what they decide?”

“Yeah, of course.” She hesitated for a moment and then said, “Thank you for being so understanding, and just… for distracting me for a bit. This was nice.”

“It was, wasn’t it? And you’re welcome. Any time.”

“I – thank you,” she repeated lamely, wishing she could come up with something better. Something that could possibly give to Fili even a fraction of what he had managed to give her in the time they had spent on the phone. But the right words refused to come to her. “I’ll, um. I’ll talk to you later, Fili,” Bilbo said at last, feeling the same awkwardness she always felt when saying goodbye over the phone. “Bye.”

“Goodbye, Bilbo.”

She pressed the red icon to end their call and locked her phone screen before putting it in her back pocket. One deep breath later and she headed back into the kitchen to find her cousin asleep with his head pillowed on his arms, still in his same spot at the kitchen table, and Sam checking on the pot roast.

Sam’s mug and plate were empty, and by some miracle, it seemed that Frodo must have managed to eat and drink some while Bilbo had been busy in the living room, as his plate only had half of a cinnamon roll now, and his mug was slightly less full than it had been.

“I think it’s done,” Sam breathed, his voice barely loud enough to carry over the soft snuffles of his best friend.

Bilbo crossed over to where he stood at the kitchen island and switched the crockpot to the low setting. It would keep. Then she eyed Sam, remembering when he and Frodo were small enough for her to give piggy-back rides. He was taller than her by a good bit now, and considerably broader in the back and shoulders than the boy slumped over at the table who looked more fae than human. “Think if we moved him, he would stay asleep?”

He turned and leveled an assessing stare upon his best friend. “I think he might, at that.”

“I’ll show you where his room is.”

Sam carefully eased Frodo up out of the chair and into his arms, and then he nodded at Bilbo to show that he was ready. She led him through the living room and into the wood-paneled hallway, lined with photos from the life she had spent with her parents before they were taken from her, along with some pictures of their extended family. A picture of Frodo and Sam in their high school graduation caps and gowns caught her eye and she ached for how much they had been through in the two short terms since the day that photo was taken.

She reached Frodo’s room, which was right across from hers, and opened the door for Sam before stepping inside to pull back the forest green quilt and cream-colored sheets of his bed. Sam stepped up to the bed, narrowly avoiding one of the wooden legs of Frodo’s desk chair, and laid Frodo down. After she nudged Sam to the side, she unlaced Frodo’s shoes and pulled off his socks, setting them on the floor, and then she pulled the covers up to his chest.

A whisper-soft kiss to her cousin’s forehead later, and she gestured for Sam to follow her out of Frodo’s room. She watched as Sam drew the door after himself, though he left it slightly open.

Together, Bilbo and Sam made their way to the living room.

When he reached the couch, Sam slumped down into the cushions and let out a relieved sigh, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the tall, sturdy back. “I’m so glad he’s asleep,” Sam said, sounding close to tears. “I don’t think he’s slept more than an hour or two a night since he got out of the hospital.” A beat of thoughtful silence later, he mused, “Well, maybe he slept while he was at that resort of yours. He did look a bit better when he came back after the break.”

Bilbo scrubbed her hands over her face and suppressed the urge to ask again why neither of them had said anything to her until now. The flash of anger at her little cousin’s stubbornness would help no one, and for the most part, Sam pretty much went along with whatever Frodo asked of him. She should just be grateful Sam’s need to take care of his best friend had finally overwhelmed his desire to make Frodo happy. Besides, they were both just kids, for all that they liked to believe they’d managed to become adults, and they had done what they had believed to be the best of their abilities in an impossible situation.

“I’m glad he feels safe enough to sleep here,” Bilbo said before the silence could drag out for too long and make things uncomfortable. “I hope you will, too.” She sat down beside Sam and covered his hand with her own for a moment.

“How did your talk with the dean go?” Sam asked, his tone ever so slightly ironic.

She rolled her eyes at herself. “My talk with his secretary’s voicemail inbox went perfectly. I sent him an email, too, so I’m sure I’ll hear back from him sometime tomorrow.”

“But anyway, from here on out, you can just take it easy, okay? I’ve got things from here. Rest. Do your coursework. Borrow a book or two from the study, or play video games – although I think some of those games might be older than you are, and I haven’t updated my collection in years, so you might find that a bit boring. Watch TV. Resist the urge to hover over Frodo every waking minute.”

Sam’s expression grew a bit mulish at that last part, but Bilbo had expected that.

“I mean it. You need to take a break. You need to think about something else.” She hesitated and then decided that now was as good a time to bring it up as any. “And speaking of distractions… I have this thing on Wednesday night – a Three Hunters watch party – and I called to let them know I wouldn’t be able to make it, since I want to be here in case either of you need me, but I was told I could bring you two with me, if you wanted. What do you think? Do you think being around a group of strangers would be too much for him? Because I would be more than happy to stay here and have our own little watch party on Wednesday.”

They could change into their pajamas, sprawl on the couch, eat popcorn, and veg out. Baggins-Gamgees unplugged.

“How many people will be there? Aside from us, I mean.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Bilbo admitted. “This would be my first time going. But – it _sounded_ like it would be family and their significant others only… Which, considering how different families tend to be, could ultimately mean anything,” she added ruefully.

“And how well do you know whoever invited you?”

Bilbo’s cheeks heated. “I’ve known _of_ him for months. But I hadn’t met him until this past Friday.”

Sam lifted his head up and opened his eyes at that. He stared at Bilbo for a while and then asked, eyebrows drawn together, “And based on that, you want to go meet his family – and bring a member of your own along with you?”

“Two family members. I’ve known you since before you started losing your baby teeth. And I’ve actually known a cousin of his for several months, and I’ve met his brother, so it’s not like I won’t know anyone else there.” This was, of course, entirely ignoring the fact that she had previously only interacted with Balin over the phone, and she’d met Kili only shortly after meeting Fili, but, well. Details.

Sam ducked his head at that, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Still.”

Shaking her head, both at Sam’s bashfulness and the recent leave she had taken of her senses, Bilbo said, “I don’t know what it is about him, Sam. But if it makes you feel any better about the whole thing, Tauriel will be coming. If, you know. We decide to go.” And if Bilbo ever actually called Tauriel to let her know about it. Three days’ notice was cutting it a bit close.

“She will?” Sam squeaked. His ears grew even darker, and Bilbo suppressed a snort. His crush on Tauriel was both long-lasting and obvious to anyone with eyes. He cleared his throat and then said more normally, “I uh, mean, she will?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh. Well, that… that’s good to know. Since she’s an officer and all.”

He glanced in the direction of Frodo’s room and straightened up, losing that edge of twitterpation. “If he seems up to it, it might be a good way to get his mind off of things. I’ll talk to him about it when he wakes up.”

Bilbo nodded and patted Sam on the knee before hopping back up off of the couch. “Sounds like a plan. I’m going to go and make sure the guest room is ready for you – it’s been a while since you two visited.”

“Oh, you don’t need to go to any trouble-“

She waved him off. “It’s no trouble, and you know it. Just relax and let someone else take care of you for once, alright?”

Sam subsided into the cushions at that. “Yes, ma’am.”

Bilbo huffed a laugh at the honorific. Old habits died hard, she supposed. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t ever change.”

“No chance of that, Miss Bilbo. No chance of that.”

He was probably right.


	5. Really Quite Absurd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has many conversations and does many things of a domestic nature. 
> 
> Sam blushes.
> 
> A _lot_. Poor dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summary is not a joke. There's so much dialogue in this chapter. In most of this story, really. Just a whole. lot. of dialogue.
> 
> I hope you guys don't mind.
> 
> In other news, a very talented and kind reader created some amazing art based off of the first chapter! https://www.deviantart.com/uchinanchuduckie/art/Ray-sketch-resized-867788548 (If you have a DeviantArt account, please give it some love. I don't have one, so I can't, but I absolutely would if I did.)
> 
> Update! UchinanchuDuckie has very kindly shared another amazing piece of art based off of That Scene in chapter one. If you'd like to see a beautiful rendering of Fili in that forget-me-not blue shirt he's wearing when Bilbo meets him in chapter one, then please go here: https://www.deviantart.com/uchinanchuduckie/art/Ray-Fili-sketch-868633684
> 
> And some more awesome art from the same artist which I may have to write a side story for. Have some Fili and Kili being goofball brothers who live to give each other a hard time, but would absolutely throw down if somebody messed with either of them: https://www.deviantart.com/uchinanchuduckie/art/Fili-and-Kili-868734839

Frodo did not emerge from his room for a full eight hours. Every so often during this period, Bilbo poked her head into his room, just to make sure he was all right. She spent the rest of her time catching up with Sam, listening to happier stories of his time at Crickhollow and tales from his siblings still at home.

By the time Frodo shuffled out of his bedroom and into the living room where Bilbo and Sam were half-heartedly watching a home improvement show, Bilbo was almost ready to start getting ready for bed. But as soon as she saw Frodo, his hair hopelessly wild from sleep, and the bags under his eyes still prominent, she sprang up from the couch and pulled her cousin into a hug and then chivvied him off into the kitchen.

Though she and Sam had made a good dent in the pot roast when dinner time rolled around, there was still more than enough to fill a bowl to the point of nearly overflowing, which she proceeded to do before setting the bowl down in front of Frodo’s spot. Frodo slid down into the chair as though his limbs were made of jelly, but he picked up his spoon gamely enough.

Bilbo grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, then set the glass down in front of Frodo as well.

A bleary-eyed Sam tumbled into the kitchen after Bilbo and Frodo, retaking his seat from earlier in the day, and Bilbo eyed him for a moment before putting together a bowl for him as well.

Sam held up a hand to forestall her.

“You don’t have to-“

He got a good, strong whiff of the pot roast as it sat right under his nose, and his stomach let out a rumble.

“You were saying?” Bilbo said dryly.

Sam sighed, though he was smiling as he did so. “That smells even better than it did earlier, and that’s saying a lot. Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome. I remember what it was like when I was your age – it really wasn’t that long ago,” she pointed out good-naturedly as she took her own seat at the table, “and I’d imagine it’s even worse for you boys. It’s like your entire body is hollow, and you can never quite eat enough to get it to stop shouting at you for more, even if you eat six, seven meals in a day.”

“That sounds about right,” Sam conceded sheepishly.

“I’d give in and let Bilbo hover, Sam,” Frodo broke in, a bit of humor creeping into his tone. “She’s going to win eventually, so you may as well stop fighting the inevitable.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows rose. “Cheeky. I guess that nap of yours must have done you some good.”

“I think so,” Frodo agreed. “Though, I still feel as though I could sleep for a week.”

Sam glanced between Bilbo and Frodo with a look that plainly said, ‘Well?’

Bilbo took the hint and cleared her throat. “I suppose that means you won’t be up to the Three Hunters watch party we were invited to.”

“Watch party?” Frodo parroted after he finished chewing and swallowing a mouthful of roast. “We’ve been invited to a watch party? By whom?”

“There’s a family – the Durins – that I know from work who holds Three Hunters watch parties each week while the current season runs. I was invited on Friday, and when I called to cancel today, I was told we could all come. If you don’t feel up to it, though –“

“No, I would like to go, if you still want to. It sounds nice.” He hesitated. “You like this family? You trust them?”

She barely knew them, but the thought of not trusting the Durins, and Fili in particular, was almost incomprehensible to her. This was one of the key reasons why she was bringing backup. “I do. And I’m going to ask Tauriel to come along with us.”

Frodo’s eyes flickered over to Sam for a moment, and the corners of his lips quirked up. “Are you? Well, then how could I say no?”

His best friend’s ears and cheeks went a bit rosy, and Bilbo brought her hand up to her mouth to cover a small grin.

“You two are terrible,” Sam informed them.

“Oh, we know,” Frodo replied merrily.

It did Bilbo’s heart good to see his usual spark coming back. That nap truly must have improved his outlook on life.

“If we’re all agreed, then, let me shoot Tauriel a text and see if she’s available.”

Though, if Bilbo knew her friend at all, Tauriel would be more than happy to switch shifts with another officer to accompany Bilbo. For some reason, Tauriel seemed to think that Bilbo’s small stature meant that she needed a bodyguard. Bilbo tried not to take it personally. At six foot two, Tauriel tended to see everyone as small and in need of protection. It was one of the reasons she had felt called to be a police officer.

 _Going to a Three Hunters watch party on Wednesday with Frodo and Sam,_ Bilbo typed after pulling her phone of out her pants pocket _. You want to come?_

**Your boys are in town? What’s going on?**

Instead of waiting for a reply, Tauriel called her. Bilbo huffed to herself before accepting the call. She should have known that would happen.

“Why are Frodo and Sam there? Last I checked, spring semester doesn’t end for another month or so.”

“We’ll get to that,” Bilbo told her friend. “Do you want to come to the party or not? Do you have a shift that night?”

“Yes, of course I want to come, and don’t worry about it. I will make it work,” Tauriel replied impatiently. “Now, tell me what’s happened.”

So, Bilbo relayed the whole story as she knew it. She was sure there were parts that the boys had either forgotten or deemed unnecessary to share.

“You could have called me about this earlier, you know,” Tauriel said once Bilbo’s explanation wound to a close. “I would have made arrangements to stay over.”

“No, I know. We’re fine, though. I have things handled. King is still in Crickhollow, and he has no idea where the boys have gone, so there’s no need to drag you away from your own home.”

“Mhmm,” Tauriel hummed.

Bilbo heard rustling in the background. “You’re packing a bag right now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

Bilbo sighed, glancing around her house, which was slowly growing more populated than it had been in quite some time.

‘The more the merrier,’ right? Wasn’t that what Fili kept saying?

“I’ll set up the master bedroom for you.”

The master bedroom was the only one in the house with a bed long enough for Tauriel to sleep comfortably, as Bilbo’s entire family was on the short side. There was no need for a king-sized bed in the ‘kid rooms’ and the guest room.

“I’ll be there in about forty minutes,” Tauriel replied.

“See you then.”

“Yes, you will.”

Tauriel hung up, and Bilbo glanced up at the boys who’d clearly been hanging onto Bilbo and Tauriel’s every word. Sam looked ready to become one with the furniture over the sheer awkwardness of it all. Tauriel had visited when Sam and Frodo stayed at Bilbo’s in the past, but this would be the first time she would also be staying overnight while the boys were here. Bilbo felt a bit bad for Sam, but he would be all right. Besides, the master bedroom had its own bathroom, so at least that would spare him from the potential indignities which could arise from the two of them sharing a toilet and a shower.

Frodo sucked in a breath after a few beats of silence, but Sam held up a finger in warning. “I’m gonna stop you right there. There’s no need to make fun. I already know how pathetic I am.”

All the mischief went out of Frodo, and he sent Sam a soft look. “You are not pathetic. You’re sweet. And I think Tauriel would be lucky to have you, as would any girl. I only tease you because I love you.”

Looking bashful, Sam glanced away. “Yeah, well, you could maybe find some other ways to show it, couldn’t you? And it’s nice of you to say, but we both know that no police officer in her thirties is gonna go for a collage freshman like me.”

Bilbo wisely chose to keep her mouth shut. Sam’s crush on Tauriel was precious, but legal adult or no, the fact remained that he was far, far too young for a woman of her age, and she was glad Tauriel had never given any indication that Sam’s nascent feelings were returned.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Frodo admitted. “But it’s her loss.”

Sam’s mouth worked as he searched for something to say before settling on, “You should eat the rest of that before it gets cold.”

Clapping her hands together, Bilbo hauled herself up out of her chair. “On that note, I’m gonna go make sure everything’s ready in the master bedroom while you two finish eating. By the time Tauriel gets here, we’ll probably all be ready to head to bed.”

The boys nodded and voiced their assent as Bilbo started making her way out of the kitchen and down the hall towards what was once her parents’ room.

When Bilbo stepped into the room, her nose twitched. It had been a while since anyone slept in here – since Tauriel’s last extended visit, in fact – and so it looked as though a bit of dust had gathered. She’d skipped this room in her cleaning spree earlier in the weekend, since it was so rarely used.

She flipped on the light and padded across the soft, golden-brown carpet to the window with its gauzy drapes. She pushed up the window and then went to retrieve her duster from its place at the bottom of her pantry and gave the two lamps, the dark wooden bedside tables, and the matching bedframe and bureaus some much-needed attention. Then she went and got the vacuum and made sure to catch any dust that might have gotten brushed onto the floor, and sucked up a few spiders and webs while she was at it.

Bilbo shuddered at the sight of a particularly large one. Tauriel had been the one to dispose of them back when they shared a dorm at Crickhollow, but Bilbo wasn’t about to make her friend deal with them while she was a visitor in Bilbo’s home. Even if she wished that she could.

After putting away the vacuum cleaner, Bilbo switched the forest green sheets and pillow cases out for a set of sage-colored ones which somehow also went well with the wine-red quilt. She closed the window and locked it, deciding that she had aired out the room as much as she could, and then found a cedar-scented beeswax candle in the drawer of what had once been her mother’s bedside table, along with a small lighter.

With the candle beginning to burn, the room started slowly filling up with a nice woodsy smell, dispelling the last traces of the dusty odor, and Bilbo smiled.

Tauriel had never been fussy about her own sleeping arrangements and had in fact been known to fall asleep in her foster family’s treehouse when she was a child, but it settled something in Bilbo to be able to make her house more welcoming for her friends and family. She had given the guest room the same treatment earlier, aside from the vacuuming, as she had not wanted to disturb Frodo’s rest.

By the time Bilbo was satisfied that she had the room in order, there came the sound of a firm hand knocking against her front door. It was the same knock Tauriel used whenever she carried out her duties as an officer, and so it was more than loud enough to reach the back of the house.

Bilbo made good time trotting to the front door. Though she knew it was Tauriel, she took a moment to check through the peephole, having to stand on the tips of her toes. She saw a dark green tank top, a red-brown leather jacket, and thick, vibrant red hair, and only then did she throw open the door.

“Hey, you,” Tauriel greeted, dragging Bilbo forward for a hug. “Did you remember to –“

“Check that it was you? Yes, of course I did, because I knew what you would say if I didn’t,” Bilbo told her after leaning back enough that Tauriel could look down and see Bilbo’s raised eyebrows.

“Oh, is that why?” Tauriel asked dryly. “Who cares about safety, as long as your best friend doesn’t get on her soapbox again, is that it?”

Bilbo’s lips twitched. “Something like that. But come in, come in. Your room’s all ready for you, unless you’d like to eat something first? I made a roast today, but you can have something else if that doesn’t appeal at the moment.”

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry at the moment,” Tauriel demurred as she followed Bilbo over the threshold. “I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine, though, if you still have a box of that Eryn Lasgalen we opened last time.”

Leading the way towards the kitchen, Bilbo told her, “Of course I do. You know I never drink that stuff unless you’re here. It goes straight to my head.”

“It goes straight to everyone’s head,” Tauriel retorted. “Which is why I will only be having the one glass.”

When the two of them reached the kitchen, they found Sam in the middle of putting the last of the dirty dishes from the day into the dishwasher. He glanced up with a mug in his hand, poised over the middle rack, and the mug fell, thankfully landing unharmed in an empty spot.

“It’s good to see you, Miss Tauriel – Officer – uh, ma’am!” Sam stumbled, his face gaining more color with every word that tumbled on its way out of his mouth.

Frodo, who was nursing a mug of tea, sent Sam a look that was a fascinating mix of hilarity and compassion over his best friend’s plight. “Hello,” he said simply, once he was able to keep a mostly straight face.

“Boys,” Tauriel said, doing her best to kindly ignore Sam’s flustered babbling, though Bilbo wasn’t sure that calling Sam a boy to his face would help the poor thing’s ego, which would surely be sporting a few bruises after this. “It’s good to see you, too, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”

With a jerky nod, Sam closed the dishwasher and declared, “Right. Well, I think I’m gonna go get ready for bed. I’m that tired. Night, Frodo, Miss Tauriel.” He strode over to Bilbo and dipped to press a kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, Miss Bilbo. Thanks again for letting us stay here.”

“Don’t mention it. Goodnight, dear. Sleep well.”

“You, too,” Sam replied before scuttling out with a hunted look.

Bilbo watched him go, feeling a fresh wave of fondness, and then turned to see her other two favorite people taking great pains to avoid looking at each other. She had the distinct impression that if they did, they would both start laughing.

“Don’t you dare,” Bilbo ordered quietly, the barest hint of humor escaping into her tone as she went to the one of the cupboards to pick out a wine glass while Tauriel went to the fridge, completely at home in her best friend’s kitchen.

“We’re not,” Frodo exclaimed softly, his blue eyes wide and deceptively guileless. “We wouldn’t. Would we, Tauriel?”

“Mmnm. Nope. Not us.”

Tauriel reopened the box of her favorite wine and poured a rather generous amount into the glass Bilbo handed to her, in spite of what she’d said about its potency moments before, while Bilbo rolled her eyes, her full lips quirking up to one side in an unwilling smirk.

“You’re both grounded.”

Frodo let out a huff of laughter. “You can’t do that.”

“Too bad,” Bilbo told him pertly. “I just did.”


	6. Losing the Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is a bit of a mess. Then again, she's got a lot going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a joke, as I have not, in fact, lost the plot. This may seem like a filler chapter, but some rather important things happen here.
> 
> In a seemingly random but actually relevant note: I happen to think freckles are adorable, but everyone has some sort of, “The grass is greener on the other side,” thing about some aspect of their appearance.
> 
> Also, full disclosure: Having never consumed alcohol, I am totally just cobbling together bits an pieces of what I've seen in TV and movies and read in books and fanfics. I also learned through research I did for the last chapter that boxed wine has the longest life post-opening. Who knew?
> 
> Next chapter we have some actual Fili interactions, I promise! And I will more than likely be writing a side story for this fic based off of an awesome piece of fan art you can find here: https://www.deviantart.com/uchinanchuduckie/art/Fili-and-Kili-868734839 which will delve into how Fili fared in the time between meeting Bilbo and seeing her at the watch party.
> 
> ETA: Check our this awesome piece Uchinanchuduckie did of what the first moments between Bilbo’s little hodgepodge family and our favorite Durin boys! https://www.deviantart.com/uchinanchuduckie/art/Ray-Fili-and-Kili-meet-Bilbo-s-Gang-draft-869159042
> 
> ETA2: Now with even more wonderful art by the lovely Uchinanchuduckie, check out these sketches of Bilbo in all her freckled glory https://www.deviantart.com/uchinanchuduckie/art/Bilbo-redesign-869365598 and if you have a DA account, give it some love! :)
> 
> ETA3: Another awesome (and funny!) piece by Unchinanchuduckie of what may happen at the watch party: https://www.deviantart.com/uchinanchuduckie/art/Ray-watch-party-sketch-870184913  
> Please enjoy all the art and show this sweet artist some love while you guys wait for the newest chapter of Ray. Real life got in the way of my writing in a big way while the power companies and phone companies shut things down in various parts of Texas, including the one where I live. But things have been getting better, and we're not dealing with the sub-zero temperatures any longer, so I'm hoping I will be able to post the next part of this story soon. I appreciate you guys for being patient while this has been going on.

Morning came too soon on Monday, one of Bilbo’s favorite, more upbeat songs blaring from her phone and jolting her out of a strange dream where she’d fallen into a cave. She encountered a creature that was at once terrifying and pitiable, and tried to stump it with various riddles.

Bilbo grimaced as she groped for her phone and proceeded to blindly shut off the alarm, desperately needing the thing to _shut up already_. She was pretty sure the riddling was an attempt to avoid getting eaten. “That is so _wrong_ ,” Bilbo groaned before sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face.

She would probably never find out if the creature ever realized she had a little golden ring in her pocket – one she’d found earlier upon landing in the cave.

“Must be all this business with Frodo,” she mumbled after spending a few moments trying to puzzle it out.

Shaking the unsettling dream off, Bilbo dragged herself out of bed and through her morning routine.

Out of consideration for her guests – and her pounding head – Bilbo tried to keep from making as much noise as she usually did and from turning on too many lights.

She had a slight mishap whilst pulling on her ballet flats, overbalancing and nearly taking a nosedive into the wall of her closet. She caught herself just in time to avoid crashing and waking the whole household.

It wasn’t until she reached her Pony 14 that Bilbo realized her green blouse clashed with her plum vest and she had to dash back into the house to switch the blouse out for a dusty rose one. The dark brown trousers could stay on.

By this point, Bilbo could only be grateful she normally left the house fifteen minutes early or she would be seriously pushing it. As it was, she still needed to rush back out of the house.

“I am just all out of sorts today,” she grumbled as she finally took off towards Rivendell.

Where was her usual composure? Her bonhomme?

It probably fled along with her senses when she gave in and had a small glass of wine along with Tauriel last night after the boys had gone to bed. They’d discussed the issue of Frodo’s crazy TA at length, for all the good it had done them. Mostly, Tauriel had listened while Bilbo told her how worried she was about her little cousin and his best friend.

Given that Bilbo was so tiny, and she rarely drank, one small glass of Eryn Lasgalen was all it took to leave her head aching and her eyes bloodshot and light sensitive.

“Never again.” She didn’t know why that particular vinyard’s yield was so potent, but she didn’t need to know in order to decide to stay far, far away from it in the future. Tauriel could have it all, with Bilbo’s blessing.

After some creative interpretations of the local speed limits, Bilbo reached Rivendell with a few minutes to spare.

When she hustled past Arwen, her employer’s daughter asked, “Are you all right?”

“Perfectly peachy,” Bilbo said brightly.

Arwen eyed her uncertainly, likely curious about the spare sunglasses Bilbo dug out of the deep recesses of her bedside table this morning – technically the backup pair to the spare set, truth be told – as she still had not found her favorite pair, nor the pair she typically fell back on when her favorite sunglasses went missing.

“If you decide you need anything, just let me know,” Arwen said eventually. “And if my brothers give you any trouble today, send them my way. I’ll sort them out.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, the words heartfelt. “That’s very kind of you. I might just take you up on that.”

She scuttled off to her office after this brief exchange and holed up in there for most of the day. Luckily, aside from a shipping delay of the complimentary custom robes the resort left in the guest suites, Bilbo’s workday went off without a hitch. Lothlorien Linens offered to knock off ten percent of the overall cost, as well as the shipping charge, in order to remedy the delay, so Bilbo declared the incident a wash. They should still have enough robes left for the three weeks without the new shipment as it was.

Right before Bilbo usually took her lunch break, Crickhollow’s dean called her cell. Accepting the call, Bilbo pulled up her time clock on the computer with one hand to clock out and listened as the dean apologized for the situation with Rafe King. King had been let go from his position as a TA, and his research funding had been pulled until he met with one of the school counselors multiple times a week for such a time as the counselor deemed the meetings necessary.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. Her little cousin had been _stabbed in the shoulder_ and the school wanted to send him to sit on some counselor’s couch and talk about his feelings? Bilbo gritted her teeth. At least Crickhollow was willing to accommodate Frodo and Sam finishing the semester at home, even though freshman at Crickhollow were technically required to live on campus.

“Just – keep tabs on King and let me know if anything changes, all right?” Bilbo said once the dean started to indicate that he was ready for the call to come to a close.

“Of course, Miss Baggins.”

A few more moments of meaningless platitudes, and Bilbo found herself staring down at a blank phone screen.

There was something else she needed to do today. What was it?

It wasn’t until Bilbo had eaten her way through most of her lunch that she realized she had never called or texted Fili to confirm that she and the rest of her party were on for Wednesday. She swallowed a bite of chocolate pudding before she was ready and choked a bit. After coughing and chugging a few sips of water, she sucked in a deep breath and pulled up Fili’s number on her phone.

She hesitated. Should she call him, or should she send him a message? Fili never specified which he would prefer, and while she had quite enjoyed their last conversation, Bilbo wasn’t exactly at her best today. Tapping the phone against her nose, Bilbo debated the matter for several moments before chickening out and taking the safest route: she fired off a quick text and then set the phone down on the far end of her desk, telling herself it would be stupid to expect a quick reply.

Her screen lit up a few seconds later.

 **Thanks for letting me know. So glad you’ve all decided to come! Can’t wait for Wednesday.** **:)**

Bilbo blinked at the message dumbly before shaking herself and picking her phone back up off of the desk.

‘Can’t wait for Wednesday.’ That had to be about the new episode, right? Surely, he didn’t mean that he couldn’t wait to see her. That was just silly.

 _You’re welcome. Thanks again for inviting us. We’re all looking forward to it_.

After a few beats, Fili sent another smiley face, and that was the end of it.

A smiley face. What did that mean? Was he genuinely happy, or was he just trying to find a nice way to end the conversation? Bilbo had no way to know, and the uncertainty was killing her. She ate the rest of her pudding in the quick, almost squirrely way she tended to when she was anxious about something, and then she went on a stealth mission to the lesser-used break room and nabbed a sugary mess that was a mockery of true honey buns before high-tailing it back to her office.

After a long but quiet afternoon, Bilbo drove home in a pensive mood, which improved greatly once she reached the house and found the boys sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by flashcards in various colors. They were quizzing each other, and hadn’t yet noticed her arrival. She leaned against the far wall and watched them for a few minutes, feeling grateful to have them with her, as much as she hated the situation which had brought them here.

She cleared her throat when Frodo got an answer wrong and wound up frowning down at the card he’d carefully tugged out of Sam’s hand. “Hey, boys. Who’s up for pasta primavera tonight?”

“As if we’d ever turn down anything you’re cooking,” Frodo teased lightly while Sam simply raised his hand.

“I like you two,” Bilbo told them. “I think I’ll keep you.”

“You want any help, ma’am?” Sam asked.

Bilbo tilted her head. “And drag you away from all your hard work? I don’t think so. Thank you, dear, but I’ve got this.”

Sam looked a little crestfallen, and Bilbo figured he must be itching for a break.

“I’ll tell you what: When I get started on the fruit tart we’re having for desert, you can come play sous chef. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a deal.”

“Good.”

Tauriel rang the doorbell right as Bilbo and Sam were putting the finishing touches on the tart.

“I really ought to give her a key of her own,” Bilbo said as Sam wiped his hands on a dishtowel.

“I’ve got it, Miss Bilbo.”

“All right. Just make sure you –“

“Look through the peephole first. Yes, ma’am. I know.”

Of course. Sam wasn’t in the habit of forgetting things about the object of his crush, including her raging paranoia – not that Sam would ever call it that, and Bilbo supposed that it was warranted in light of the current circumstances.

Dinner was quiet and relaxed, and everyone shared bits and pieces of their day. Things grew slightly tense while Bilbo relayed the gist of the conversation she’d had with Crickhollow’s dean. None of them were happy with the somewhat lackadaisical approach the school had chosen, but gradually, the earlier ease returned.

Tauriel only teased Bilbo a little bit about the sunglasses she still wore.

“And where is the pair I bought you?” she asked wryly, knowing Bilbo loved that pair best.

Bilbo shrugged and raised her empty hands helplessly.

“Well, they’ll turn up eventually,” Tauriel declared. “They always do.”

Looking around the table, Bilbo found herself wishing she could have this all the time. She wanted family to share her evenings and weekends with, and to ply with dessert even when they swore they couldn’t eat another bite. She wanted to see kids sitting in the living room, studying, and have someone to laugh with over their antics whenever they did something goofy.

Fili popped into her head, and Bilbo tried to shove the image of his bright eyes and welcoming grin away. He seemed wonderful, but there was no reason to think so far ahead. They’d only met each other in person once. She couldn’t know anything from that, not truly, and she was sure he would run for the hills if he had the slightest idea where her thoughts had gone just now.

She tuned back into the conversation around her just in time to realize that Frodo was asking her something. “I’m sorry?”

Frodo eyed her with a concerned look before his features smoothed out and he said, “I was just wondering if we could watch the most recent episodes of The Three Hunters tonight. Sam and I have gotten a bit behind with everything that has been going on lately.”

“Yes, of course. You know I’m always happy to spend time with you – and for an excuse to watch my favorite show,” she added sheepishly.

“Oh, do you like that show? We had no idea,” Tauriel joked lightly.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut it, you,” Bilbo said tolerantly, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips.

After putting away the leftovers, Bilbo went to take a shower and change into a set of old, threadbare, faded burgundy pajamas which were on their last leg. Bilbo refused to get rid of them, even though they were riddled with holes, as they were the softest sleep clothes she owned. They’d been her mother’s, once upon a time, which was another reason Bilbo couldn’t bring herself to part with them.

“How far back do you want to go?” she asked as she stepped into the living room. “I can’t stay up too late, but if you think you won’t be too tired tomorrow, you’re welcome to watch the ones we don’t get to while I’m in here without me, or you can watch them while you take a break from studying tomorrow.”

Sam and Frodo exchanged a glance.

“We’ve missed – what? Five, six episodes?” Frodo estimated.

“Six sounds about right,” Sam agreed.

Bilbo dutifully pulled up Mirror Image, the streaming service, and looked for the right episode after settling into a cozy spot on the couch. Frodo curled up beside her with his head on her lap as the show began a brief recap of the earlier scenes relevant to this episode, and Bilbo started running her fingers through Frodo’s dark curls, so similar to her own.

Frodo was out within minutes, but Bilbo knew Sam would be happy to let him replay whatever he missed tomorrow.

To spare Sam’s back, Tauriel volunteered to carry Frodo to bed that night after the rest of their little quartet made it through two episodes.

The next morning went far more smoothly, as Bilbo had forgone any wine and slept so hard during the night that she had no dreams at all. When she woke, her blue eyes no longer held traces of redness, and the dark circles had vanished, the pale skin beneath her eyes as clear as if the dark circles had never been there in the first place.

Sleep couldn’t do anything to rid her of the freckles lightly dotting her cheeks, but that was why they’d invented makeup, wasn’t it?

That evening, after she and her companions finished polishing off all the leftover pot roast, pasta, and the tart, Bilbo started putting together the crusts for her pies.

She made two of each kind of pie, just in case one of them came out looking slightly wonky. The boys would be more than happy to put a dent in the rejects whilst Bilbo and Tauriel were at work tomorrow.

On Wednesday afternoon, Bilbo clocked out exactly on time and then breezed through the halls of Rivendell’s main building.

“Dashing off again, my dear?” Mr. Grey asked as she raced by. “You wouldn’t happen to have another adventure ahead, would you?”

“I do, in fact! Good afternoon, sir!”

“Indeed,” Mr. Grey replied, looking pleasantly bemused.

As she climbed into her car, Bilbo mused that she had probably never given the rest of the staff nearly so much to talk about as she had in the past five days. She supposed she was happy enough to entertain them, so long as the talk never turned malicious.

Traffic seemed particularly heavy that afternoon, and every red light took an age to change. At one point, Bilbo found herself stuck behind a Silver Fountains delivery truck and had to laugh as she was, once again, stuck examining an old image of Fili dressed as a pool supplies representative.

It wasn’t exactly what Bilbo would consider a hardship, but she would much rather gaze at the real thing. Her foot itched to push down on the gas pedal, and she flexed her hands and chewed on her lower lip.

At last, the light turned green.


End file.
